


Time Changes

by candidshot



Category: Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Drabble, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-12
Updated: 2013-03-12
Packaged: 2017-12-05 03:32:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/718394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/candidshot/pseuds/candidshot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Their meeting is by sheer co-incidence, and Caroline sometimes thinks of it as fate meddling in her affairs... or maybe this time, Klaus has another message for her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Time Changes

It’s in a dimly lit underground jazz bar, an old distillery, in which they’re sitting side by side, thighs bumping against each other, hips almost joined at the side. It’s been over thirty dragging minutes of silence except for the strumming guitars and a perfected piano, accompanied with tuned drums and the soft vocal leaking from the stage further up front.

Their glasses cling against the table top and it seems like no amount of scotch in the world can quench their thirst or drown their inevitable thoughts.

Their meeting is by sheer co-incidence, and Caroline sometimes thinks of it as fate meddling in her affairs.

“And now?”, she hears him suddenly ask, “I’m not going to woo you forever, Caroline”.

She flinches; involuntarily wrapping her fingers tighter around the cold scotch glass, “have you finally gotten tired?”, she responds, a bit uncaring but also underlined with hesitation, deep consideration.

The live band on stage keeps serenading with a calm, mellow and soulful music, but beyond the low keys of the tune, there’s a dramatic build-up, a crescendo of sort.

Time always seems to stop in this old dingy distillery built in 1780, but Klaus finds in it this special fondness in how it’s been able to preserve its charm with old stone walls and old oak panels, vintage brass furnishing and the pungent smell of fermented alcohol staining all the way through from many yesteryears.

She flips her hair back and sips from her glass. Klaus sighs, “waiting for centuries upon centuries is bound to get anyone exhausted, my dear... even the great immortal me is no exception”.

Time passes, that trivial thing that has them chasing each other across the seas, country borders, ancient cities, underground lounges and cobble stone squares of Amsterdam, where the streets are busy with all sorts of folks buzzing around with cars honking on the cramp roads, folks gallivanting on the sidewalks, loud laughter filtering from crowded cafes and bars, music of all genre distilled in the air, much too festive for what their conversation is about.  

“Then if you wish, wait another century or two”.

There’s silence between them, now strolling outside in the open night air, along the Brouwersgracht Canal that’s glowing a shimmer under the pale streetlamps. Back in the old days, the canal started off as an anchoring trading port of spices and silks from Asia, later housed in warehouses and breweries. But things change over the passage of time, Klaus notes, with old deluxe apartments and boathouses replacing these once-upon-a-time richly busy warehouses.

“I could. I can wait an eternity for you, Caroline, but…”, he pauses a bit with his head cocked in a pondering thought. It’s three in the morning and the place is now just about empty, save for a few cliques still dawdling about in the small alleyways leading the short walk to Dam Square, “but let’s face it, love… you and I will never be together”.

And just like that, he’s gone.


End file.
